


Secrets Kept

by deepforestowl



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Implied Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 19:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepforestowl/pseuds/deepforestowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secrets</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets Kept

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on LJ under an alter ego of mine, major_cottle. Done as a challenge response: Prompt from day 2 of the 7 days of Sodom for the Cottle WOL. Keyword: Secrets.

Title: Secrets Kept  
Author:major_cottle  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Moore's the man with the master plan.  
Author's notes: Prompt from day 2 of the 7 days of Sodom for the Cottle WOL. Keyword: Secrets.

 

Everyone has secrets. Some were better kept than others. It was an open secret among Galactica's crew that the Old Man cared very deeply for Madame President. There were dark secrets too; Helo murdering the Cylon biological weapons. There were also painful secrets that were known only to the bearer. Secrets that hurt the heart and soul in ways that was unimaginable.

As a doctor, Cottle knew more secrets than he had probably ever wanted to know. It was part of his profession. A dying patient, no one at their bedside, confesses that they murdered someone, that they loved someone, that they were lying when they said they were ready for death. It was part and parcel to his trade. He knew which people had sexually transmitted diseases, which had abortions, who had been a drug user and so forth. When it came down to it however, who did Cottle rely on when he needed a shoulder? The answer was no one. Though he could have and should have made use of the hodge podge of psychological services professionals that were within the fleet, Cottle knew they were stretched thin enough as it was. No, Cottle kept the secrets of others and his own and said nary a word to anyone about them. He paid a price though. He smoked and drank more and his insomnia was a well know phenomena though no one knew what caused it but him. In the dark, secrets came back to haunt him, especially his own.

His own secrets caused him the most damage. His biggest one being he loved Bill Adama in a way that was passionate and fiery and it was only through the strictest self-control that he was able to hide it from everyone, even himself most of the time. It leapt out in small ways. After he had sewn Bill up after Bill had gotten shot, he had crawled back to his quarters, had a good stiff drink, and that was when his hands had started to shake. He'd cried with relief and fear and thanks to the Gods that everything had turned out ok. When Bill had gotten beaten to a pulp in the Dance, Cottle had been so angry with Bill for letting that damage be done to himself. And yet, as he patched Bill up, he couldn't help but be relieved that Bill would be ok and through Bill's actions, the rest of the crew. Of course, the fact that he felt this way for Bill was crazy, but the fact that he often acted on it in small secret ways was insane.

When Bill had been in a coma in recovery from the shooting, one night, when everyone was asleep or elsewhere, Cottle had slipped in to check on his patient and seeing that he was alright, Jack the man had made an appearance. He had just watched the unconscious Bill and then, knowing no one was around, he had leaned over and inhaled the scent of the man and before Jack's courage could flee, he had leaned closer still and gently kissed Bill's temple. That kiss had sustained Jack through many a long night, especially on New Caprica. Jack had patched together resistence, Cylon, and the average citizen, and though he knew fear, he had taken an oath to do no harm and that meant helping all, keeping secrets, and watching as Bill and Laura danced closer and closer to each other. He was happy for them, even as it tore at his soul. But that was neither here nor there, he had the memory of a kiss on the temple and the smell of a man that he loved. Jack would have to make do with that, even has he pounded back another shot of moonshine, smoked another cigarette, read another report, and healed another wound, but not his own, never his own.


End file.
